Читать книгу The Defilers - Deborah Gyapong - Страница 6

Chapter 4: The Molester

On the way to South Dare Will gave me the silent treatment, speaking to me only when giving me directions. I wasn’t sure which I preferred because he had been way too chirpy and talkative earlier that morning. He had me on a seesaw – overly friendly one minute, cold and distant the next. A control thing. I wasn’t going to fall for it.

We took the back road from Cornwallis Cove instead of the highway. The sun had melted most of the snow into big puddles, which shimmered in the light. Outside the village we passed several houses with long rows of small cages in front. A peaked shingled roof covered each line of cages, protecting some kind of animal from the weather.

“What’s in those cages?” I asked.

“Mink or silver fox. Mostly mink around here. Some people from South Dare muck out the cages for a living.”

The tires swished through a deep puddle, spraying muddy water on either side. Then the pavement ended and the gravel road’s potholes rocked the car. Bare maple saplings and scrubby brush hugged the road until we passed a swamp where rotted trees poked up through the rippling water.

We turned right onto a dirt track full of boulders and water-filled ruts. Gravel popped under the tires. Weedy-looking trees and brush closed in around us until we reached a clearing where an ugly two-storey house with a crooked picture window loomed over three shacks and a trailer. A massive rusting satellite dish stood next to the house.

“What’s going on?” I braked to a stop. “I thought we were supposed to meet the IDENT guy, what’s his name.”

“First, we’re going to see the unofficial mayor of South Dare.”

A couple of snarling dogs greeted us until a man with a bushy lion’s mane of shoulder-length hair called them inside.

Will opened the door without knocking, and the first thing that hit me was the humid smell of beer, stale sweat and dog feces. The picture window had black curtains blocking most of the light, so it took my eyes a few moments to adjust. It looked like a makeshift tavern instead of a living room. The room had about six white plastic tables and at least twenty chairs. Bluish light flickered from a big-screen TV.

At one table sat Gordon Dare and another man whom Will introduced as Rex Dare, Gordon’s younger brother. He wore a nylon mesh sleeveless undershirt, his hairy chest and arms sporting green tattoos of dragons, skulls and naked women.

Was this Reginald “Rex” Dare, the man I’d read about this morning who had been charged with satanic ritual abuse three years earlier? Catherine had said that incest ran rampant in these poverty-stricken isolated communities. Was this the man who’d orchestrated the abuse of his own children? I tried to keep my face from showing my disgust.

Rex bared big yellow teeth in a smile. “So, this is the new constable. Welcome to South Dare.” His left eye focused on me while his right eye wandered. He had a few days’ worth of stubble on his chin.

Will strode around the room. “Didn’t see you at the fire, Rex. You never showed up to admire your big blaze.”

“You have a warrant?” Rex’s good eye glinted. When he sipped his beer his bushy moustache brushed the foam. Gordon leered at me.

“Don’t need a warrant to ask questions.” Will opened the curtain hanging in the doorway to the adjoining room. Beyond I could see a storeroom containing stacks of cardboard boxes full of beer, packages of chips and cigarette cartons. I didn’t need a degree in rocket science to figure Rex was a bootlegger.

Will peered into the storeroom. “Why are you trying to burn the pastor out?”

“Sit down. Relax.” Rex kicked a chair toward him. Will came around and stood next to me. Rex gestured with his thumb and Gordon fetched two beers from an old fridge in the corner, clutching them with his deformed fingers. He twisted off their caps and pushed them toward us. The blue light of the TV flickered and out of the corner of my eye I saw the white curvaceous forms of two naked women writhing together.

“Turn that off,” Will ordered, “or I’ll arrest you for pirating that signal.”

Rex clicked the remote to a shopping network, then sipped his beer and wiped his moustache with the back of his hand. “What I hear, the man set his own house on fire.”

“You gotta do better than that,” Will said. “I could have a warrant in no time and be all over you like a bad smell.”

“Hey, I’m being for real here. My nephew Alan was out checking his rabbit snares yesterday morning and he seen the pastor in his front yard with a baseball bat. He seen him break his living room window and throw in a cocktail.”

Will grimaced. “Aggie’s son? Come on.”

Rex turned to me. “You’re way too beautiful to be a cop. You must have all them other Mounties in a frenzy.”

Gordon flicked his pink tongue at me.

“Stop it, Gordon!” Rex shifted toward me in the white plastic chair. “She’s a lady.” He puffed out his chest like a peacock fanning his tail. “You married?”

I narrowed my eyes. “We’ll get a statement from your nephew.”

“Do I stand a chance with you, gorgeous?” Rex grinned.

He radiated sexual magnetism that made my blood fizz like acid.

Will caught my eye and made a subtle gesture toward the door with his head. It bugged me that he was calling all the shots, but I wasn’t going to complain about it in front of Rex and Gordon. In unison, Will and I strode to the door. When Will pulled it open, sunlight flooded the room.

Holding the door open for me Will twisted to face Rex. “We’ll be seeing you. And I’ll have a warrant.”

“You come anytime, sweetheart,” Rex grinned. “I’m happy to answer the lovely young lady’s questions.”

I hesitated in the doorway, but Will prodded me outside. The noonday sun was blinding.

“That pastor, he’s got a thing for kids!” Rex shouted after me. “He’s a child molester. Some of the women want to make complaints.” Will positioned his large form in the door frame, his thick hand clutching the grimy woodwork.

I poked my head back into the room. “Which women?” I asked.

Will did not lower his arm. How dare he use his physical size to try to keep me from doing my job. I saw a vision of myself breaking his arm with a karate chop.

“Trudy Cranwell, for one.” Rex tipped his beer bottle up to drain the last sip, watching us with his good eye.

Will grabbed my elbow and nudged me away from the door with his hip.

“Trudy? You’re not fooling anyone.” Will let the door close.

Hey, I want to ask more questions! I brushed by him and reached for the doorknob, but he grabbed my elbow again.

I jerked it out of his grasp. “I’m going back in!”

“If you want to stay out here alone, be my guest.” He spun and lumbered down the rocky path to the car.

I glared at him as he circled it, checking the tires probably to see if one of the locals had slashed them. I’ve got the keys, buster! When I’d calmed myself down enough to no longer see myself drop-kicking him to the dirt, I marched down the path and confronted him over the roof of the car. “Who is Trudy Cranwell?”

“Don’t go there,” Will growled. “Rex is trying to confuse you.”

“I’m not the one who’s confused.”

The pupils in Will’s eyes shrank to pinpricks. “Rex Dare is dog dung. He molests his own children.” The muscles in his jaw flexed.

“What’s up with grabbing my elbow back there?”

“Give me the keys, or open the door!” Teeth clenched, he looked away, took his hat off, and ran his fingers through his hair. Anger mottled his cheeks with red. He checked his watch. In a more conciliatory tone he said, “Charlie from IDENT is waiting.”

Silently counting to ten, I fumbled with the key and unlocked the doors.

While driving slowly around the potholes and boulders in the Dare’s rutted laneway I observed Will out of the corner of my eye. He looked straight ahead, his face still red, his mouth pursed.

“Don’t ever grab me like that again,” I said when I’d calmed down enough so that my voice would sound normal.

He shrugged. “Did I grab you? Sorry. Didn’t mean to.” He glanced at me, apologetically.

I weighed my response. His apology seemed genuine enough. He was doing his seesaw routine again. Remembering my silent pledge to be a team player I decided to accept it. “Do it again, and I will bust your lip.”

He laughed. I hated the strange relief I felt that he got my joke. Yet maybe I didn’t want him to take it that way. I really could bust his lip. He had no right to bar my way like that.

“Why are you so sure Rex firebombed the Jordan place?”

“If he didn’t do it himself, he got somebody else to do it.” Will stretched one of his legs as best he could in the confined space.

“Maybe David did it knowing Rex would get the blame.”

Will laughed. “That is nuts.” He glanced at me. “You’re joking, right?”

“It’s so funny I forgot to laugh.”

“People are beginning to trust David and confide in him. Rex has an illegal empire to protect. He’s got to drive David out.”

The sun shone directly overhead as we pulled into the Jordans’ former laneway. The auxiliaries who’d guarded the scene all night waved to us as they drove away. Inside the blackened shell charred beams lay at crazy angles. I scanned the area, wondering where this nephew of Rex’s might have laid rabbit snares. The scrubby woods were thick with underbrush. Maybe Rex was telling the truth about an eyewitness.

Will opened the trunk and took out the case containing the forensic gear. As we began to put on protective oilskins and rubber boots the IDENT arson specialist Charlie Delaney arrived in an unmarked police car. A thin hollow-cheeked man in his early fifties, Charlie’s thick white hair had a yellowish tint.

Will passed me a handful of plastic bags. “Linda, you catalogue what we find.”

I rolled my eyes. Team player, remember? Team player.

Some of the beams were still hot. No wonder we had to wait twenty-four hours before doing this part of the investigation. We slogged through about three inches of sooty water. Charlie recorded his observations on a tiny voice recorder he kept in his breast pocket. We found some green melted glass that could have belonged to the kerosene-filled wine bottle. The heat had exploded all the living room windows outward from the heat, except one, broken from the outside.

Mid-afternoon we called it quits. On the way back to Sterling Will and I observed a couple of vehicles parked outside David Jordan’s church, so I turned into the small unpaved parking lot.

Inside, light glowed around bare bulbs suspended from the open rafters. Worn maroon linoleum covered the floor. David Jordan sat on a chair, reading from a picture book to seven children sitting at his feet. They ranged in age from about five to ten. My stomach curdled. Me. Sitting on a plywood chair, gazing at Ron playing his guitar. I dug my fingernails into my palms to block the memory. David nodded toward us and then continued reading. A wooden door at the side of the room opened slightly, then closed. Who’s in there?

A little blonde girl wearing pink sweats stood apart from the group, leaning against a post. The simpering seductive look on her face jarred me. Is she another one of David’s victims? I clamped my jaws together and took a deep breath through my nose, afraid my rage was obvious. The poor little kid.

Will grabbed a plastic chair from the stack while I lifted up a rubber boot by the door and checked the sole pattern. These boots could have made the footprints Will found at the fire. My eyes were drawn to David’s socked feet as one of the little boys climbed into his lap. I was clenching my teeth so hard I could have cracked one of my molars.

Margaret Roach entered through the side door carrying a pitcher and some paper cups. Someone quickly closed the door behind her. Was someone hiding back there? Margaret gave me a thin-lipped smile, though her magnified eyes were wary. She set the pitcher down on a corner table next to a box of soda crackers and a jar of cheese spread. At least Margaret provided some supervision for this monster. Or was she an accomplice?

A few times I caught David inspecting me. What is he staring at? He radiated charm. The kids seemed to adore him, though that didn’t help them behave any better. Will plunked onto one of the plastic chairs and stretched his legs out.

The little girl in the pink sweats sidled up to Will, climbed on his lap, and flung her arms around his neck, her amber eyes gleaming like a cat’s. Will gently tried to peel her off. She clung to him, giving him a seductive stare through half-closed eyes. She sure fit the profile of a sexual abuse victim with her inappropriate friendliness, sexual precociousness, and lack of boundaries. Seeing Will’s discomfort I lifted her away from him. She kicked and spat at me. When I put her down she scampered right back to Will who stood to keep her off his lap.

David closed the picture book. “Okay, kids. Time for your snack.”

The children rushed over as if they hadn’t eaten all day. David ambled up beside the girl in the pink sweats. He squatted so he was at eye level with her. “Becky.” He placed his hand on her shoulder.

Becky recoiled from his hand as if it were a red-hot iron. She hissed and growled like an animal. The hair rose on the back of my neck. Suddenly, the little girl before us looked more like an evil gnome.

David appeared completely unfazed. The loving expression on his face made his ex-wife’s testimony blink in my brain like a flashing light – this man had abused his own daughter. “Don’t be frightened, Becky,” he said.

Becky whirled around and ran toward the other children. She snatched a paper cup from the table and gulped down the juice. Then she grabbed a handful of crackers and ran off to a dark corner. That girl belongs in a mental hospital.

David rose slowly, as if he had trouble unwinding from his squat. He and Will chit-chatted about the investigation. Satisfied Will wasn’t going to be giving away any evidence, I left to take a look around the building.

I wove through the gang of children who were jumping, hollering, and racing around playing tag. I opened the side door and entered a shed-roofed kitchen to find an old fridge, stove and a laundry-style sink. A black rotary-dial phone hung on the wall. The back door was slightly ajar. Opening it I stuck my head out and saw a wooden outhouse at the edge of the clearing.

I froze. A woman leaned against the back of the church only four feet away from me. She jumped. Her deep-set eyes locked on mine, full of fear and anguish. The cold had turned her pale skin a mottled red and white. Her shoulder-length wiry brown hair was full of split ends. Flinging a cigarette onto a patch of snow she bolted toward the woods.

“Wait! Come back!” I shouted. “I want to ask you a couple of questions.” I debated whether to chase her, but she was already out of sight.

Inside the church David told me the woman was Cindy Dare, Becky’s mother. He said she probably ran away because she was extremely shy. He started summoning the children to join him in a circle, so I left.

Outside, Will slouched against the police car, smoking. The corners of his mouth tipped downwards, his reddish eyebrows almost meeting. He threw his cigarette down and ground it into the squishy clay.

I told him about Cindy running away.

“Cindy is Rex’s second wife. The little girl in pink? Their kid.” His husky voice shook a little. He searched my eyes for a split second, then glanced away. “Becky’s the way she is because of what Rex did to her. He sexually abused several children in South Dare, not only his own. We finally got it to trial and Cindy was one of our key witnesses. She choked on the stand big time. No one believed her.” I thought his eyes welled up a little, but I wasn’t sure.

So Rex was the subject of the witch hunt the judge had thrown out of court. Will had it in for Rex. Maybe that’s why he had a blind spot where David was concerned. I unlocked the car door and slipped into the driver’s seat. Will heaved himself in next to me.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if David Jordan is a pedophile.” I braced myself for Will’s reaction.

“You don’t quit, do you?” Will shook his head. “Don’t get sucked into Rex Dare’s lies. He lies even when it’s to his advantage to tell the truth.”

“Look at David’s charm. Look at his interest in those kids. Doesn’t it seem a little overboard to you? You know the profile. He’s reading them stories and serving snacks to gain access.” I twisted the key in the ignition, the car fired up, and we pulled away. “Soon he’ll be plying them with communion wine.”

“Baptists use grape juice.” Will tapped my shoulder. “Not everyone who likes kids has ulterior motives. I used to coach Little League – that make me a pedophile?”

“I worked on child pornography stings. I know something about these creeps.” My voice moved up half an octave.

“As if I don’t!” He gazed out the window.

“What about the boots?”

“So, they match. They match the boots of every farmer in Sterling County.”

“I think we should interview the nephew, the one who said he saw Jordan set the fire.”

“Give me a break. At 6:30 a.m. it was pitch black. Alan couldn’t have seen anything.” Will shifted in his seat and clutched the strap as I swerved into the passing lane.

“Alan could have seen him through the window and watched him come outside. The moon was almost full the night of the fire.”

“Alan Dare comes from the shallow end of the family gene pool. He’ll say whatever Rex wants him to say. Rex’s brother Gordon saw me pick up the baseball bat at the fire scene. He put two and two together.”

“Well, Jordan’s ex-wife accused him of sexually abusing his own daughter.”

“Yeah, right!” It took a moment for what I said to register. We exchanged glances. His eyes were full of questions.

Ha, he didn’t know this already. “She did. I saw a copy of her affidavit.”

“Where did you get that?”

“Catherine Ross. She keeps a file on Jordan.”

“People say crazy things during divorces. I wouldn’t stake too much on it. It was during a custody battle, I bet.”

“You can’t automatically assume Rex Dare is lying just because he comes from swampsville.”

“Look, I know Rex Dare. I know this community. You don’t. These aren’t nice people. Whether David was sexually abusing his daughter is irrelevant. Rex Dare or someone he sent firebombed the Jordans’ house. Whether or not we can prove it is another story.”

Driving in silence, I made up my mind to interview Rex’s nephew Alan and find out one way or the other if David Jordan was a pedophile.